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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102997">harvest moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians'>peachesandlesbians</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>if music be the food of love, play on [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Devil Wears Prada (2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Songfic, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:07:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda is late to her and Andy's five-year wedding anniversary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>if music be the food of love, play on [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>harvest moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon.” Hope you give it a listen and enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Miranda clenched her jaw, tapping her nails on the car armrest, barely acknowledging the way Roy worriedly glanced at her. She had a big problem, and although their relationship strengthened over the years, she doubted he could help. </p><p> </p><p>It had been five years since Andrea said “I do” and agreed to marry her. Five joyful years. Oh, they had their share of troubles of course; money was a difficult factor for them at first. During their engagement period, Andrea wasn’t a cub reporter but nor was she Editor-in-Chief. Things got a bit iffy when Andrea pointed out she could barely pay half of the wedding bill, with Miranda retorting that she would be long dead before Andrea would make as much money as her. That made her dear Andrea’s temper flare, most likely because her statement was true. </p><p> </p><p>Or the adjustment period of being a pair. Getting used to each other’s presence and communicating was difficult, more so for Miranda. She could recall making an off-hand statement many times, inadvertently hurting Andrea’s feelings. It took a while to understand that what she meant and what Andrea thought she meant were two difficult things. As connected as they were, she could not be expected to read Miranda’s mind after all.</p><p> </p><p>Still, these past years were ultimately the best years of her life, arguments, tears, and all.</p><p> </p><p>Which is why it was so disappointing that Miranda was late. Late to their five year wedding anniversary. Wasn’t five years a milestone? She wouldn’t know; none of her past marriages lasted that long. </p><p> </p><p>It was rather unfortunate that her marriage lengths were about the same (less than five years) because they also all ended the same. Her staying late at <em> Runway</em>, them being stood-up in a restaurant, her forgetting an important date, arguments while her ex-husbands were drunk (or was that just Stephen?), her buying an “I’m-a-bit-sorry-so-stop-pestering-me gift”, them cheating on her until the cycle repeated again.</p><p> </p><p>But this time, surely this time was different. Anxiety welled up inside Miranda, and this time she couldn’t crush it like she normally could. It was true that she was late on an important date, but they were doing so well! </p><p> </p><p>Or were they? Dread slowly crept through her, freezing her from the inside-out. It <em> had </em> been hectic recently, and she did miss the girls’ recital just last month…</p><p> </p><p>She was so lost in thought that she opened the car door herself, nearly leaping out to explain to Andrea how sorry she was. With every step toward their home, her shoulders tensed and tensed until they were about to pop out of their sockets from stress. Miranda glanced at her watch, opening the door with a sinking feeling in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>It was 10:30. Two hours later than she promised. </p><p> </p><p>Andrea was going to be furious. Rightfully so. But it was fine. She would not lose the best thing that happened to her. No, with Andrea, she had little qualms with groveling. Miranda would apologize again and again like with her ex-husbands, but this time, she would try twice as hard afterward to make Andrea happy. Be on her best behavior, make sure Andrea knew she was loved, perhaps take a vacation—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Miranda clapped a hand over her mouth as she looked at the scene in front of her. Candles burnt to the stub, long forgotten in the dark. Food packed neatly into containers, the labels reading pasta with sausages, one of her favourite meals. A deep red tablecloth still laid on the table, along with a vase of roses. </p><p> </p><p>Andrea made this. Made this for her, and they couldn’t even enjoy it together. The feeling that Andrea was too good for her crept up from time to time, but at that moment, it smashed into her like a truck, knocking the wind out of her lungs. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Come a little bit closer </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hear what I have to say </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just like children sleeping </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We could dream this night away </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But there's a full moon rising </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Let's go dancing in the light </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We know where the music's playing </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Let's go out and feel the night </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Music floated down the staircase, soft and slow music, tinged with sadness by the sound of it. Miranda caressed the roses before sighing, following the music. Every step she took was heavier and heavier as she tried to slow her rapid breathing. It would be okay. It had to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When we were strangers </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I watched you from afar </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When we were lovers </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I loved you with all my heart </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But now it's getting late </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And the moon is climbing high </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I want to celebrate </em>
</p><p>
  <em> See it shining in your eye </em>
</p><p> </p><p>After what seemed like eons, Miranda arrived in front of their bedroom door. It was closed, which wasn’t a big surprise. She played with her wedding ring, twirling it around her ring finger, as she leaned her head against the door. </p><p> </p><p><em> Just be honest and accept any punishment, </em> she told herself. It was what she deserved. From her position, she could faintly hear the sound of Andrea crying.</p><p> </p><p>No, no. She couldn’t be crying. Anything but that, please. Miranda widened her eyes, instantly pushing the door open to see Andrea sitting on the bed, hunched over. No. God, no. How could she do this to her sweet, gentle wife?</p><p> </p><p>“Andrea? Darling, please don’t cry.” Miranda rushed over, placing a trembling hand on similar shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault, but please, it hurts so much to see you cry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Miranda?” Andrea wiped her eyes and turned to the side to press a button on her phone, stopping the music. Good thing too, for it would have made her cry too. “You’re home. Did you see—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, darling. I’m so sorry I’m late.” Shame burned her face. Miranda couldn’t even look at Andrea, preferring to lower her eyes to the ground. “I tried to come home early. I told my assistants to let me know when it was 8, but the first one had to leave early and the second one was so miserably incompetent that she didn’t even tell me. And I set some alarms on my phone too, but that brainless assistant spilled coffee on it, so it didn’t ring.”</p><p> </p><p>“Miranda . . .”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry. I should’ve remembered by myself, but I got so caught up in work. That’s no excuse, I <em>know</em>, but I really am sorry. I know I hurt you and you’re probably very upset—you have every right to be—but please forgive me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Miranda.”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know why she couldn’t stop, but words and old worries spilled out of her. “Just please, don’t ask for a divorce. Don’t leave me.” At Andrea’s gasp, Miranda finally looked into her eyes, tears building up in her own. “<em>Please</em>. I’ll do anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Woah, slow down, sweetheart.” Miranda sniffed as Andrea used her thumb to chase away a stray tear. It was odd that she was being so kind, but of course she would try to make this moment easier for Miranda. Gentleness before crushing her heart. “You told your assistants to interrupt your work?”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked. Didn’t she just say that? “Y-Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you set multiple alarms?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>Andrea chuckled. “Honey, I’m not mad.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re-you’re not?” Miranda gaped in a completely unfamiliar fashion. She wasn’t mad? Why? How? “But . . . I’m late for our anniversary. I should’ve remembered. I—you were crying!” </p><p> </p><p>“I was crying because of the song I was listening to. It’s so beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“The song,” Miranda repeated faintly. </p><p> </p><p>“Besides, you did remember. You’re here, after all.” Andrea kissed her forehead, and Miranda couldn’t help but close her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She fiddled with her ring again. “Two hours late. When I promised you I would be home on time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, honey. I know who you are. I know who I married. I know that you might forget some things or that sometimes you have to come home late or dates would have to be cancelled. I <em> know </em> all those things.” Andrea cupped her cheeks as Miranda gazed on in wonderment. Somehow, this strange, marvelous angel belonged to her. <em> Loved </em> her. </p><p> </p><p>“I missed the girls’ recital last month,” Miranda weakly said. She didn’t want to argue with Andrea, but she had to know if Andrea would change her mind or say something that utterly devastated her. She lived on hope, yes, but not false hope.</p><p> </p><p>“You also apologized and took the weekend off for them, silly.” Silly. It seemed like Miranda Priestly was a very silly woman. “Sure, you’re late tonight, but you were on time for the last four years. You remember my birthday, how I like my coffee, and all the other big and little things. Who cares about one night?”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you would be mad,” is all Miranda can say. She honestly did. She thought Andrea would end up yelling at her, not that she would be so tender and forgiving that it made her heart ache. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that why you brought up divorce?”</p><p> </p><p>She let out an involuntary shiver, pressing close against Andrea. Andrea, in turn, wrapped her arms around Miranda, pressing kisses to her face. “All my marriages end in the same way. I forget something, and they get mad and drink. Or cheat.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrea stiffened. “You know I would never.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” She reached up to trace the curve of Andrea’s jaw, a rush of love leaving her breathless. “I just don’t want this to end.”</p><p> </p><p>All the tension melted out of Andrea and watching her, Miranda couldn’t help but relax too. “It won’t.” </p><p> </p><p>She knew it was an impossible promise to make. Andrea could leave her tomorrow, or she could get hit by a car, or she would fall in love with someone else, but Miranda wanted so desperately to believe it. </p><p> </p><p>So she did. Andrea Sachs loved her, and she was not going to leave. Ever.</p><p> </p><p>“Now come on.” Andrea got up, tugging at her hand. Miranda cocked her head, brow furrowing. “Come dance with me. I want to finish listening to this song before we go down and eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Miranda rolled her eyes, but what else could she do but follow? “Now who’s the silly one?” </p><p> </p><p>Andrea only laughed at that, her beautiful laugh that filled up the room. “God, I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>Miranda beamed like a schoolgirl, intertwining her arms behind Andrea’s neck. There were no words to describe how happy she felt with her Andrea. Love seemed to overflow in her, spilling into her work, her sleep, her girls, everything. Her world was made of love. “I love you too, darling.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because I'm still in love with you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I want to see you dance again </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because I'm still in love with you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> On this harvest moon </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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